Brave New World
by selena11anuri
Summary: Series continuation. A terrible future looms over the earth again. Peter and Claire fight prejudiced radicals, Gabriel must face Sylar, the circus is in danger, and Hiro rushes to save his friends all sparked by a Politician's death. No slash or pairings. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

[AN: Ok, so some parts of this are slow and won't make sense but bear with me. This is my continuation of the series because, although I understand why it ended, I wish they'd wrapped things up. No slash, mentions of pairings (mostly cannon ones), one or two OCs (not Mary Sues). Hope you enjoy it. -Selena]

-HEROES-

**Prologue: The Butterfly**

**Three years ago Claire Bennet revealed to the world that Humans had evolved and taken on new and extraordinary powers. The Nation was in uproar for years, political lines were drawn, radical views surfaced and major changes had to be made across the country. The Genetic Equality Act of 2010 was passed to insure the safety of all such gifted people, known as Specials. Today a government agency, the Office of Special's Affairs, formed to help Specials in aspects of government, swears in their first Director. It is a pivotal moment in time that will decide the fate of the world.**

"Good Morning," Rosalyn Franklin's voice carried across the hushed crowed outside of the newly erected Deveaux building, amplified and repeated across the lawn. Pausing before she continued she glanced to her left at the heads of her security team. Gabriel nodded to her from where he stood, only feet away. At the base of the platform, Peter met her eyes and smiled, floppy hair falling in his face.

"Thank you all for coming," She continued, drawing strength from them. "Today I am sworn in as the head of this new agency and the President lays on me a deep trust, a trust that I have said many times I am ready and willing to uphold. Three years ago I would have said the same thing though this ceremony would have been held behind closed doors. I don't condone that and I do not believe the world should be kept in the dark concerning our evolution as a species. I do not believe that the American people should be left ignorant of the threats and miracles that go on around them every day. Three years ago a brave young woman, without fear of rejection, threw herself from the top of a Ferris wheel and walked away unharmed. She showed the world what she could do and we sat back in awe. Some of us cried. Some of us shouted. Some of us cheered. The world is ready to know. If we weren't then the Genetic Equality Act would never have come to the President's desk and I vow to uphold that monumental piece of legislature at every turn. As I take this chair I promise to lead our country into that brave new world…"

BANG! The shot rang out clear and harsh in the chilly November air and for a split second everything was still.

"Rosa!" Gabriel Gray cried out in equal shock and horror, rushing to her side.

The crowed was suddenly in panic as the speakers spewed the sounds Rosalyn Franklin's last breaths and the panicked cries of the man holding her. Dark suited men pushed into a screaming, writhing crowed, all eyes tracking the dark hat and jacket of the assassin.

"Stop!"

"Get Down!"

"You There!"

BANG

BANG, BANG!

More shots. Screams of terror rose from the people as their sweaty, horrified faces swung left then right in the mob. The assassin fell, blood pooling around him and feet trampling over him. The dark suits were washed away by the living stream. The man at their head, a new Yorker and former nurse, pushed forward to find only a pool of blood on the concrete. Equipment tumbled as the hundreds of spectators fled like ants. Red ran down the steps of the platform as Rosalyn Franklin, newly appointed Director of the Office of Special's Affairs, died. With her died that brave new world.

**History is often decided by one man, one word, one pivotal decision that saves or destroys. The glories of our past are written in the stories of people who were in the right place, at the right time, had the right skill, or made the right decisions. The shames of or failures are written in the absence of these people. Perhaps alone they were unimportant, flawed and human as any other but their effect on the whole of humanity cannot be quantified. Equally vast and unimaginable is the effect of their absence.**

-HEROES-

**Chapter 1: The Hurricane**

**-Three Months Later-**

Peter Petrelli stood shivering in the chilly spring air of New York City, blowing into his hands and rubbing them together to coax out warmth. His blue eyes darted up and down the sparse traffic of the street outside his apartment building.

Peter's mind was pulled from the cold and his search by vibrations traveling up his jacket and rattling against his hip. Fishing his phone from his deep pockets, a smile graced his face. Flipping it open he read the incoming text.

_be safe_

_good luck_

_tell Gabriel hi for me_

_I love you_

_-Emma_

A new kind of warmth rose in his chest and sparkled in his eye.

HONK! Peter jumped and looked up at the idling car in front of him. With a jump in his step the tall man hurried to take the passenger seat.

"You've got that stupid look on your face again," the driver noted as he pulled away from the curb.

"What?" Peter tried to hide his smile. "No, I don't."

"Yes you do," Gabriel Gray, once known as Sylar, noted in his superior tone. "You always get that look when Emma dotes on you."

"Emma doesn't…" Peter trailed off as Gabriel gave him the disbelieving, one-eyebrow-raised look. Peter shook his head and settled for passing on a message, "She says 'hi'." Gabriel just smirked at his victory and turned toward the airport.

"So what's the new assignment?" Peter asked.

"Identify and approach, boring, low threat level, mundane…"

"Thank god," Peter cut off the criticism. "Where?"

"Chicago."

"Aren't Tori and the new guy… Damien, aren't they based in Chicago?"

"Busy chasing a fire-starter across South Dakota…" Gabriel said cynically, then muttered under his breath "should be our job."

"Calm down Gabe," Peter laughed a little at his partner. ("Don't call me 'Gabe'" the driver responded and was ignored.) "We nearly lost our last assignment, let's just take it easy for a while and be thankful."

"_You_ be thankful," Gabe muttered but there was a slight smile to his lips. "I'll be board."

-HEROES—

There was a soft knock on the office door of the Yamagato Industries CEO.

"Hai," Mr. Nakamura said from behind his desk.

A young secretary came in and said softly in Japanese "The American lawyer for Ms. Franklin has arrived."

"Ah, send him in," Hiro replied with a friendly smile and a joyful nod. She disappeared only to be replaced by three men in smartly cut black suites. Hiro stood quickly and rounded his desk to shake their hands.

"Welcome," He said in English with a thick accent. "Please sit." They obliged with the awkwardness of people unfamiliar with Japanese culture.

"Mr. Nakamura," The baldest of the middle aged men started. "We are here to fulfill the wishes of the late Rosalyn Franklin."

"So you said over the phone, but I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name."

"The three men exchanged glances."

"Apparently _she_ knew you." From a suitcase the second suited man removed a document and a sealed envelope.

"This is the last will and testament of Rosalyn Franklin. It states that 'The attached letter, placed in the care of my lawyer, shall be delivered by hand to Mr. Hiro Nakamura of Yamagoto Industries.'" With a weathered hand he passed the standard sized envelope across the desk to the young CEO. Hiro looked it over carefully as the lawyer read out the date it was written and signed.

"Do you know why Ms. Franklin would have a letter for you, Mr. Nakamura?" The last man in the group finally spoke. He looked different from the other two, more keen and critical, looking everything over with suspicious eyes.

"No," Hiro replied honestly, "But thank you for delivering it. He laid the letter down on the desk. Yamata-san will show you out." The young man stood and bowed respectfully to his guests before they filled out. The suspicious man giving him one last calculating look before following the lawyers out. Confused Hiro picked up the letter from the woman he had never met.

-HEROES—

"Good afternoon Mr. Hillman," Claire Bennet said with her sweetest face. The man sitting at her table forced a smile onto his thin lips but his eyes said he saw through her show. "I just got your case file, it seems you ran into a little trouble with the local LEO's."

"We had a few misunderstandings," Mr. James Hillman spoke with a Georgian accent. "I thought it would be best if I simply left town, they were rather confrontational."

"I see," Claire said distractedly as she read down the faxed over copies of various police reports. "Mr. Hillman, I want you to know that this isn't the first relocation I've done and I know how to spot the instigators. I must impress upon you that if you create problems in your new location we are obligated to punish you to the extent of the law and that by doing so you are forgoing any further chance of relocation."

"Yes, I read the Terms and Agreements, ma'am," he smiled with a strange sincerity. Claire shivered at the familiarity though nothing about the man was particularly familiar. There just seemed to be an aura about him she disliked.

"Well then," She sat back, the sooner she finished this meeting, the sooner she never had to see Mr. Hillman again, "let's get you set up." A self assured smile split his face and Claire shivered again. It was all too familiar.

-HEROES—

"Matt!" Molly Walker called from the front door as she threw it open. "Matt!" Running through the small apartment she found her adoptive father sitting in the living room with a book in his lap, head tilted back and lightly snoring. Without hesitation she jumped up beside him, despite being 14 she was still short and excitable.

"Wh-What?" Matt sat up bleary eyed as the coach shook under new weight. "What's goin' on. Back already?"

"Matt, it's 3:30!"

"Is it really?" Matt looked down at his watch. "Must have dozed off. "What's this?" He asked pointing to the paper the little girl had clutched in her hand.

"My first 100% math test!" She held up the paper proudly.

"That's awesome!" Matt laughed and picked her up happily. You're amazing! Didn't I tell you the studying would pay off." Molly laughed in his arms.

"Yes, you did."

"Matt," Janice called from the door. She came around the corner seconds later with their four year old son, Matt jr., or Matty, in her arms. "Would you and Molly run out and get the groceries please?"

"Yeah sure," He put Molly down so she could remove her backpack. Together the dozen or so grocery bags weren't a big deal for the father and daughter but Matt paused on his way inside, sharp eyes lighting on a parked van across the street.

"Hey Molly?" He called to the little girl.

"Yeah?"

"Wasn't that car there yesterday?" He asked her with a vague gesture.

"I don't know," She shrugged, unbothered and uncaring. She was teenager with teenage worries. He sighed, with one last look at the suspicious car and headed inside.

-HEROES—

Peter's fingers flew over the phone's keypad as he texted. Around him people bustled through the New York airport with rolling suitcases, talking loudly into earpieces.

"Does it ever cross your mind she might find you annoying?" Gabriel asked as he sat beside Peter in a hard airport chair and held out a coffee cup. Peter quickly typed out _'Gabe's complaining gtg love you'._

"Don't call me Gabe."

"Or what?" Peter asked. "You'll stop reading my texts?"

"I don't need to read your texts, I know what it sounds like when you hit those keys."

"Freak," Peter muttered.

"You're the one who can see sounds," Gabriel countered.

"Nope," Peter smiled, putting away his phone. "Still have Frank's ability."

"The guy who shot me in the head?" Gabriel asked, remembering their last assignment that had taken them across five states and cost them two cars. Their target had spotted them on the first day. He was a paranoid, schizophrenic with the ability to see people's intentions. If he and Peter had known that, they'd have kept out of sight but it was a new find.

"Yep," Peter nodded, smiling. The look on Franks' face as Gabriel stood back up and spit out the offending bullet was one for the records.

"So what's _she _planning?" Gabriel pointed to an attractive blond two rows away, reading on a Kindle. Peter went pale.

"I don't think you want to know," He muttered. Gabriel grinned. "Got a thing for Blonds, Gabe?" Peter retaliated. The smile dropped from his partner's face.

"No," the former serial killer said bluntly.

"You know I think that's your problem," Peter smirked. "You can't stand watching Emma and I because you can't move on and find a girlfriend." Gabriel leveled Peter with his best Serial killer glare.

"We are not having this conversation."

"Just tell me," Peter edged out on a treacherous limb, "blonds or brunets?" Gabriel sighed.

"Come on," Peter taunted.

"Our plane is boarding," Gabriel replied and stood quickly. Peter just grinned and followed his friend with no intention of letting up on the subject.

-HEROES—

Hiro quickly opened the simple looking envelope, his mind running through the many dramatic possibilities that it might open. After a life of saving the world, traveling time, and fighting criminals he had come to expect drama and interest at every turn. The past three years had been turbulent as the Japanese government struggled with the world wide revelation that Specials existed. His life as head of Yamagato Industries had been busy and, thanks to Kimiko's talents with PR, a positive influence on the political climate. Things in Japan were far from settled but they were better than the situation in America was looking. Finally the letter was in his hands and he read the English script quickly and fluently.

"Dear Mr. Nakamura,

You do not know me but we will meet in your future and my past. Events will unfold that neither of us have the power to stop, but if their disastrous effects are to be remedied your help is essential. In the past destiny has called on you to save this imperfect world not once, but twice and you have risen to the challenge graciously. I must ask that you do so once more.

On November 4, 2011 in room 639 of the Wide River Motel at 8:05 AM you will see what you need to in order to save us all.

Good Luck and Goodbye my friend,

Rosalyn Franklin

November 4, 2011 6:34 AM"

Hiro looked in wonder at the letter. He re-read and re-read it. Hastily he picked up his phone and hit the well worn extension.

"Hello?"

"ANDO! Destiny calls!"

"Hiro, what is this about?" Ando asked as he came into the large office minutes later.

"I have received a letter from a maiden in distress," Hiro said proudly and held out the letter for Ando to see.

"This could be anyone Hiro," Ando defended. If Hiro was being called it meant bad things were most likely going to befall those around him.

"No," Hiro turned around the computer screen. "She is a maiden in distress. She is calling me from the past to come and save her." On the screen was displayed an American news report on the Assassination of the presidentially appointed Director of the Office of Specials Affairs.

"Office of Special's Affairs?" Ando asked.

"Yes. They take care of the American Specials."

"Why do you need to save her."

"Because she is important!" Hiro cried. Ando knew in Hiro's big heart everyone was important and berated himself internally for even asking such a question.

"So you go back and then what?" Ando asked. "What if it's a trap?"

"Then I must take that risk," Hiro nodded. "A Hero does not back down!"

"Who will run the company until you return? What about Kimiko? She's six months pregnant and I can't leave her."

"That is why you will stay here and take over until I return." Hiro nodded.

"Wha… me?"

"Yes, I wouldn't trust anyone else." Hiro said with complete conviction. Ando's face was a mix of pride and reluctance. He'd been with Hiro through a lot and it was hard to be left out, even when such an important task and an important woman needed his attention.

"Be careful." He warned his best friend.

"Hai!" Hiro smiled. He stood ready a few feet away. "I'll be back soon."

"You better," Ando replied before Hiro disappeared with the soft whoosh of air filling the vacated space. Ando sighed. He'd just have to settle for waiting, and worrying. His eyes then fell on a stack of waiting paperwork and he groaned loudly. Waiting, worrying and paperwork, he amended.

-HEROES—

"There she is" Peter noted and motioned out the window at a tall young woman walking purposefully down the windy Chicago street. Gabriel just grunted his recognition and pushed his hands further into his pockets, it was cold in Chicago, even in a car. "She's just heading home."

"That ability of yours is quite useful," Gabriel muttered, "Makes this job even more boring than it otherwise would be."

"Hey," Peter cut off his complaining. "At least we have coffee shops around. I've personally had enough of chasing fugitives through back roads and no-wheres-ville."

Peter started the car with numb fingers, hoping that it would heat up soon, and pulled into the street.

"Three years working for the OSA and they have us going after little girls."

"She's 29," Peter noted, "and she's a Special. The OSA doesn't discriminate based on threat level. Besides, we aren't sure the extent of her powers."

"Sophie Stone 'Suspected ability to alter genetics or healing powers' 'credited to have cured a man dying of Huntington's'" Gabriel quoted her file. "Hardly dangerous."

"People gifted with healing are often gifted with the power to take life as well," Peter countered.

"She's a low level newspaper editor," Gabriel muttered. Peter shook his head; the mood was starting to wear on him after two days.

"Wait!" Gabriel suddenly sat straight up and alert.

"What now?" Peter asked annoyed.

"I saw something…" Gabriel trailed off as a ticking started sounding in his head. He ignored it and focused on the street that was going by them and the people on it. "I've seen that man three times this morning." He pointed to a middle aged, average looking, African American with a dark hat and stuffed gunmetal gray jacket, stopped at a newsstand but looking intently down the street. Peter's eyes caught him quickly.

"Oh shit!" He speed up, "He's going to kill her."

"Keep driving!" Gabriel instructed, his instincts and years of experience kicking in. Before Peter could argue he was unbuckled and stepping out of the moving car. Thanks to his telekinesis he hit the ground gently and stumbled up onto the sidewalk. The man didn't seem to notice him though he was only five feet away, walking toward the corner that his target had just turned. Gabriel made a dash for the attacker as Peter turned the corner sharply.

The young editor, hugging her bag and holding up her coat collar against the wind was surprised at the screeching of wheels and brakes as a large SUV pulled to a stop just ahead of her by the curb. A young man threw the side door open and motioned to her.

"Get in. Quick!"

Sophie's first thoughts were of panic and she backed up. The face of the young man in the car transformed into dread and his eyes rose to look over her shoulder. She barely had time to turn before a heavy, dark skinned hand fell on her shoulder. The flash of a blade caught her eye and she turned in time to see the knife in her attacker's hand fly forward, out of his grip and lodge itself in a parking meter. A hard shove sent her falling into the waiting arms of the man from the car.

"What the…? More freaks? All the better!" the attacker growled and reached into his jacket again.

"I wouldn't," A steady, velvet voice warned. Peter looked on over the girl's shoulder as the African American ran at Gabriel with a second knife he'd pulled from his jacket. He tackled Gabriel and they tumbled onto the pavement. All according to his plan, Gabriel latched his right hand around the back of the man's neck and blue electricity arched from his skin.

"Gabriel!" Peter yelled. The tall man stood and dislodged the six inch blade from his side. On the cold pavement lay the attacker, still breathing but unconscious as if he'd been tasered.

"Oh my god," Sophie Stone had turned in time to see Gabriel remove the offending weapon. He rubbed his side and looked down at the man on the street.

"That kind of hurt," He noted with mild annoyance to the unconscious would-be-killer.

"Did he just…" the young woman started to ask but trailed off. Peter suddenly found his arms occupied by more of the woman's weight than he anticipated and he stumbled.

"Did you have to make her faint?" Peter asked his partner exasperated. "We're supposed to be breaking this to her gently." Gabriel smirked.

"You have to admit this is more fun," He told Peter, who groaned. For the former-Paramedic, this assignment was turning into a nightmare.

"Not boring anymore," Gabriel smiled, kicking over the unconscious man to show a crudely drawn fist on his shirt. "It would seem STRIKE has spread their influence a little further again."

-HEROES—

Gabriel wandered their targets well sized but crowded apartment. The walls were lines with overflowing bookcases, too much furniture was pushed up against them, liberally scattered with papers, books, and magazines. A few seemingly random pictures were propped against a cushy armchair where Peter now sat, leaning forward to take the young woman's pulse. She was laid carefully, still wrapped in her jacket, on one of the three sofas that dominated the room.

He noted the orange pharmacy bottles beside her kitchen sink, stack of rolled news papers, and layer of dust over everything. It reminded him of his own apartment in New York. Turning from the familiar sight of an apathetic existence he paused between the kitchen and living room.

"How is she?" Gabriel asked from the doorway.

"She seems fine," Peter muttered. "Should wake up soon though I imagine most people aren't used to seeing a man casually pull four inches of knife out of his chest!" his last few words were pointed and harsh.

"I said I was sorry," Gabriel spread his hands in surrender but didn't look very apologetic.

The woman on the couch groaned and her hands came up to feel the neckline of her coat. Eyes still closed she started undoing the buttons. The coat halfway off, she sat up, opened her eyes then stopped in mid motion. Mouth open, her wide eyed gaze shifted from Peter to Gabriel then back twice before her panic caught up with her body. Abandoning the coat she jumped back into the couch cushions.

"Take whatever you want I don't care!"

"Relax," Peter said in his best soothing, I'm-a-nurse voice, "we don't want to take anything we just want to talk to you."

"Talk? Wha... I saw him..." she motioned toward Gabriel. "You... You should be in a hospital! How did you get into my house? What happened to the man who attacked me? Why did he try to…" She gulped as the realization of her near death experience hit.

"It's ok now," Peter said softly, hoping to avoid the panic attack.

"NO!" she shouted, "it's not!"

Silence fell for a moment as the door opened with a prominent and ear splitting squeal of hinges.

"Oh, Sophie dear," the middle aged woman who entered the apparent sighed, "I'm glad you're awake." she seemed completely unalarmed by the two strange men, but instead offered a steaming mug off the tray she was carrying to Gabriel before entering the cluttered living room. She was getting on in her years but looked sharp as a whip the way her blue eyes assessed each of the men in the room. "These boys saw what happened, dreadful, and they were nice enough to bring you home; found your address in your wallet. They asked me to open the apartment 'cause you left your key in the office again."

"You went through my purse?" Sophie glared at Gabriel first, who looked un-guilty and pointed covertly at Peter. She turned her dark eyes on him only to find him throwing a baleful look at his accomplice. The slightly demonic grin that came over the taller man's face wasn't missed by anyone.

"Anyway," the woman went on, "They say they're with the government but if you find anything missing you let me know, I have their names."

"There's not much worth stealing here," Sophie muttered as she accepted a cup from her landlady and threw her eyes around at the library of books that littered her home. "Thank you, Camille."

"Not at all dear. I'll be next door," she said as she left again, "and these walls aren't sound proof," she added with a meaningful look at both men. When the door latched Peter found Sophie's dark eyes glaring at him.

"What do you want?" she asked with exasperation.

Peter sighed and started his well practiced and over used speech. A year working in crime management and two working with new Specials had given him time to perfect it.

"Three years ago the public leaned that a certain percentage of humans have evolved to a new level. These people have developed superhuman abilities; flight, regeneration, hyper awareness, telepathy, and in some cases the ability to manipulate DNA."

"Yeah, I'm not blind. I've seen the news in the past year," Sophie took off her coat and removed the knitted hat from her head revealing short, curly brown hair framing her rounded face.

"Many of these people don't know that they have these abilities. They go years, sometimes even their whole life without knowing."

Sophie's gaze traveled between Peter and Gabriel slowly.

"You can't really think that I'm one of these people."

"Yes we do, Sophie," Gabriel cut in, "you visited a friend in the Chicago General Hospital last week. He was dying of Huntington's chorea, a genetic disease. After your visit he was miraculously cured." Gabriel paused and leveled Sophie with his most trustworthy gaze. Like so many people, she seemed to crumble under it and a small voice in his head laughed at her, it took joy in the power just a look could have on people, the power he had. Gabriel shut off that line of thought, his eyes unconsciously falling to where a broke watch still hung on his wrist.

"No, if Craig was cured I would have heard about it by now," she rationalized. Peter gave her points for it, they'd run into a few who were more than happy to accept that they might be different; those often turned out to be the harder assignments.

"The hospital didn't want to admit that they might have made a mistake, I mean how could he be cured of an incurable disease unless they diagnosed him wrongly to begin?" sarcasm and a touch of scorn entered Gabriel's voice. It sounded too much like a certain serial killer for Peter and he chose to jump back into the conversation.

"Sophie, you touched him, held his hand?" Peter asked and she nodded. "And did you feel anything?"

"N...no, well... it felt... wrong... Craig is the best guy, he makes my job bearable. I was just thinking he didn't deserve that... and then... they said he had a seizure." Peter's eyes lit with understanding.

"That was his body adjusting to the change. You altered his DNA, cured him," the nurse held Sophie's gaze with his own. "You did a good thing, something amazing." His hand strategically slid into hers. To his surprise she pulled away.

"That doesn't explain who you are and how you knew before even I did." Sophie glared now at the two men.

"My name's Peter Petrelli and this is Gabriel Larson, we work for the Office of Special's Affairs." Peter fished his badge out of his pocket and flipped it open to reveal the gold insignia, "It's our job to find people like us, Specials, and tell them what they are, help them if they need it."

"You're here to help me?" she asked skeptically.

"Do you need help?" Peter asked.

"Apparently," Sophie said shakily. "I've lived my whole life in big crime ridden cities but this the first time anyone's tried to kill me. I can't help but think your arrival and that attack weren't coincidence." Peter and Gabriel exchanged looks.

"Not everyone... accepts specials," Peter said tactfully. "That man, Derek Fuller, is on a list of known anti-special-radicals. He's got a list of arrest warrants waiting for him."

"So because I'm a Special, he tries to kill me?" Sophie leaned back hard with a heavy sigh, "good lord."

"I know this a lot to take in but we need to look at your options."

"Options?" Sophie asked, confused.

"They know who and where you are, now," Gabriel said from the doorway. Sophie noted that he didn't enter the room fully.

"Since we took out the first guy they're likely to send more," Peter finished,

"They?" panic and disbelief crept not her voice.

"There is a local group of anti-specials in the area calling themselves STRIKE, that the OSA has been observing," Peter tried to keep his voice as calm as he could but his experiences with the prejudice and violence against specials had been traumatic and painful even for him.

"And now I'm a target?"

"That's why we need to discuss your options," Gabriel explained, his deep, solid voice having a calming effect on the young woman.

"What do I do?" she asked him helplessly. For the second time the little voice in Gabriel's mind laughed at the woman and took a sick pleasure in her weakness. He fanaticized for a moment what strange contortion that fragile body would make it the pain of slow death... No! Gabriel cut it off and looked quickly to Peter. It had taken a lot of effort not to kill the man who'd attacked him in the street and the fatigue of fighting the hunger was taking its toll.

"Usually we would suggest relocation, new name, new life, new city, but in your case, the situation is fairly contained and we could use our resources to make you safe. It would take several weeks, you'd need 24 hour guard and..."

Sophie waved a hand for Peter to stop.

"I'm sorry this is just a lot to take in..." she sighed and put her head in her hands. "Could you just give me a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," Peter forced a reassuring mile and stood to join Gabriel in the doorway.

"Well that went better than it could have," the taller man whispered.

"She seems open enough, but judging by the amount of stuff she has I don't think she'll go for the relocation," Peter responded reluctantly. It would be nightmare trying to hide Sophie again.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Gabriel said as he picked up a worn paperback copy of the Lord of the Rings and memories of many fond readings came to him but none younger than ten years old. The once loved book had been abandoned like many of the other things he'd touched in the apartment.

"I'll go for the relocation," Sophie smiled resolutely if joylessly from her seat on the couch. "These books are going to be a bitch to move though." Peter looked stunned, he'd never seen anyone so willing to drop their life and leave, while Gabriel just nodded, he understood.

Peter sputtered for a moment before he could pull together the words "I'll get us plane tickets to DC"

"Plane?" all the color drained out of Sophie's face as the word passed her lips. "Forget it!" Despite her lack of color, her voice had clear conviction. Flying was not an option.

-HEROES-

Hiro closed his eyes tight, felt for his familiar power and focused on the date and location his strange guide had provided. He knew he'd moved because the quiet office with its smell of cleaning supplies was replaced suddenly with the stench of old cigarette smoke, mold and a scratchy voice emitting from the speakers of an old television. Hiro opened his eyes at once to see a dingy motel room where a small, harsh featured man sat with his back to the new arrival, the bed beside him covered in the parts of a hand gun. Hiro's eyes widened and he quickly suppressed a gasp. Looking around quickly Hiro stashed himself in the open bathroom. From there he could clearly hear the announcer as he spoke to the screen about the upcoming inauguration of Rosalyn Franklin, who would head the Office of Special's Affairs. Hiro was peeking out to catch a glimpse of the woman who'd written to him when the man on the bed started talking suddenly.

"They want to help the unnatural devil's spawn," He scoffed. "God wouldn't make such things in this world. I'll show you Ms. Franklin... oh yes I will… the world doesn't need these heroes... it needs real people!" A firm knock on the door cut the man off. Hiro ducked behind the bathroom door quickly as the other occupant of the room bustled across to the door, now fully assembled gun in hand.

"What do you want?" He asked a man Hiro couldn't see.

"Not much," a familiar voice made Hiro's stomach flip.

"Brain man," he whispered. Eye pressed to the crack in the door Hiro could only stand on in horror as Gabriel Gray, otherwise known as Sylar, walked into the dingy room.

"Hey! I didn't invite you in!" the man with the gun cried.

"You're insignificant," Sylar went on as if the man hadn't spoken. "What your actions caused is not. It will feel nice to kill that woman," Sylar's eyes fell on the television where a woman's face, she looked to be in her mid forties with dyed red hair, looked back and smiled.

"The bi..." the man didn't get to finish. While-blue electricity arched from Sylar's outstretched hand and land squarely on the man's chest.

"In a different time you had the pleasure of ending her but now it's my turn. Rosalyn Franklin dies today," Sylar walked casually over to the body of the man he had just murdered and took the gun from the dead hands. Blue cracks of electricity danced over it's surface. Sylar just smiled while his face morphed and rearranged itself painfully into a perfect copy of the corpse on the floor.

"This should be fun," He smiled before leaving. In the bathroom Hiro was left wishing he'd brought his sword.

"Oh, no..." Hiro whispered. "Brian man is going to kill Rosalyn... I must stop him... but the time space continuum...?" Hiro debated for only a moment more before hurrying out of the room, past the dead body and into a parking lot outside.

"Hiro Nakamura?" Hiro blinked and froze in mid step. He turned to a see a confused looking man with a strange pattern of facial moles and horn rimmed glasses holding a white envelope. "Are you Hiro Nakamura?" He asked again.

"Ummm... yes," The confused Japanese man replied.

"I have a message for you," The man with the horn rimmed glasses held out the envelope.

"From who?" Hiro asked. It was a bit of a pointless question because no one knew he would be there except Ms. Franklin herself.

"My boss," the man replied cryptically. With steady but urgent hands Hiro ripped open the letter, his childish face scrunching up in concentration.

_Hiro,_ it read_, this is the second part of the letter that brought you here. Please know that there is nothing you can do to prevent my death. If it is meant to happen let it happen. Right now there are more important things to attend to. Peter Petrelli, a mutual friend of ours is in danger. You must go to him now. Kirby Plaza, by the fountain, buy a cup of coffee and draw Kensei's symbol on it. This will make sense very soon. _

Hiro reread the note twice.

"I do not understand," He looked up to the man with the horn rimmed glasses but he was gone.

-HEROES—

James Hillman fumbled with the lock of his new apartment door. It stuck and he cursed it colorfully. Looking carefully left then right he decided that the coast was clear. He looked over the lock, its parts, and the careful mechanism inside of it. It was nothing near as complicated as the watch on his wrist or as well made. He waved his hand over the face and used his telekinesis to shift the out of line pins back into place. A metallic _click _rang through the hall and he smiled.

"Mr. Hillman," a board voice addressed him. James turned slowly to the young man walking down the hall.

"I'm sorry," James smiled politely, eyes shining with recognition and impatience. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet," The young man explained. He'd lost the extra pounds since his teenage years and his face had hardened into that of a man instead of a boy but the air of recklessness and overconfidence hadn't faded. Luke Campbell smirked. "I'd like to make you an offer though. What if you didn't have to hide what you where? If _we_ didn't have to hide what we are?"

"That sounds almost too good to be true," Mr. Hillman shook his head. "I don't think the world is ready to accept us, not peacefully." Luke shrugged.

"It's about time they did and it was never going to be peaceful." James Hillman smiled. This is what he'd been waiting for, this is why he went through the long and exceptionally boring ordeal of relocation. He was finally in the action.

"What are you proposing? I'm interested," Hillman assured his new (or old) friend.

-HEROES-

"What did you do with the man in the trunk?" Sophie asked from where she sat in the back seat of the government provided SUV.

"I dropped him off at the local jail while you were packing," Peter explained. Gabriel made a face that said it was better than the man deserved.

"Oh," Sophie fell quiet.

"Anyone you need to say goodbye to before you go?" Peter asked their charge.

"No," she sighed.

"No one?" Gabriel asked, surprised.

"I don't get out much," she shrugged. It fit with what he'd observed in her apartment.

"I can sympathize with that," Peter muttered. "Speaking of life outside of work, would you text Emma for me Gabriel? Tell her I'll be few more days." Rolling his eyes, Gabriel pulled out his phone to comply.

"A girlfriend?" Sophie asked.

"Fiancé," Gabriel corrected as Peter turned a light shade of red.

"She pretty?" Sophie prodded with a slightly evil smile on her face.

"No," Gabriel answered for Peter again. Sophie laughed and Peter punched his partner.

"Emma's gorgeous!" was his defense to which Gabriel gave him a withering look. Sophie laughed though it sounded unfamiliar to her.

"What about you Gabriel?"

"No," He answered without any hint of embarrassment, though Peter looked at him with poorly hidden worry.

"Suppose OSA agents are just like all government employees, over worked and underpaid." She speculated.

"You got that right," Peter chuckled. "You work as an editor for the Chicago newspaper?"

"Don't anymore, thank god," Sophie sighed. "Seven years in school and they have me correcting grammar and spelling for the literary equivalents of third graders." She sighed. "What about you two, you must have been something before all this weirdness." Peter glanced at Gabriel again, who was staring fixedly out the front window.

"I was a paramedic," the driver explained. "Before that I was a hospice nurse. I've come to consider the 'weirdness' to be my calling."

"You're one of those hero-types then?" Peter caught Sophie's grin in the rear view mirror.

"Insufferably," Gabriel laughed. "It's impossible to hang around this guy and not find some poor person who needs saving. I think he attracts them; that's his real power."

"Wonder what that says about me?" Sophie huffed. "And you, what did you do before this?"

Gabriel paused.

"I was a watchmaker in Queens," He answered simply.

"From my home town no less," the young woman's voice took on a false note of happiness.

"Yes, I read your file," Gabriel admitted.

"Bit creepy," She told him, head cocked.

"It's my job now," He shrugged and looked over his shoulder apologetically.

"Yeah, I guess," She smiled at him. "Actually... I have something that... well... if you were a watchmaker perhaps you could fix it." Gabriel's face fell into neutral curiosity as he watched Sophie rummage through her one bag that she'd hastily packed before climbing into the car with them. From her small jewelry box, Sophie produced a wristwatch. Gabriel's attention was dominated by it as she passed it forward, mostly by its silence.

It was a wound watch, thirty five years old, of good quality, a woman's watch, European made, most likely in Italy. His mind ran through all of that instantly before his fingers even closed on the cracked black leather band. When he did touch it an old ability came to life. Images flashed rapidly before his eyes: a happy woman accepted the watch from her husband, they were a contented couple expecting a child; the child was born, weak, sick; she grew stronger but her father grew weaker; the father's funeral; the mother weeping; dust, screaming, fire, walls caving in then silence; the monitors monotonous beep, the ambulance blaring on though it's passenger was dead; the mother's funeral; Sophie crying as she held the silent watch.

"Gabriel, hey!" Peter slapped his arm lightly, "You ok man?" he asked, the question having more than one depth.

"Yeah, fine," Gabriel said distractedly and looked down at the cracked surface of the silent watch. He turned it over in his hand and like everything he picked up the pieces showed him how they worked, every cog and wheel fulfilling a purpose and causing chain reactions that made the mechanism function.

"Can you fix it?" Sophie asked.

"I could," Gabriel answered. "But I don't think you want me to." He passed the watch back to the woman. "It's seen a lot of death."

"How did you...?"

"Gabriel has more than one ability," Peter piped up, "He can heal, move things with his mind, and see the history of any object he picks up."

"Oh," Sophie turned red under Gabriel's heavy gaze. His voice full of sincerity Gabriel apologized.

"I didn't mean to pry."

"It's alright," Sophie answered.

"Can I ask…" Gabriel hesitated, still watching the woman in the back seat carefully, "the collapsing building?"

"My mother worked in the South Building of the World Trade Centers," Sophie whispered without meeting his gaze, from her detached tone she was used to explaining by now but no less hurt by the loss.

"If it's any consolation, I know what it's like to lose a parent," Gabriel answered. He knew the look that Peter must be giving him now but he found that he wasn't referring to his absent adoptive father, the mother he accidentally murdered, or his now-dead biological father. He was thinking of the woman who died before his young eyes outside a Nevada Cafe, the one he barely remembered yet still missed.

Gabriel realized suddenly that Sophie was smiling sadly at him with wide dark eyes that, unlike so many others he saw from day to day, didn't hold the fear, the resentment, the accusations, just understanding. He forced a similar smile but knew it could never have the same effect and turned back to look out at the road ahead.

The hours passed quickly in the car as it ate up the miles between Chicago and D.C. Soon the three companions were driving through the night, faces lit by the passing headlights. Sophie, exhausted from a day that set her world tumbling, was breathing evenly in her sleep, her head propped against her bag.

"So..." Peter broke the comfortable silence, "Brunettes then."

"Grow up," Gabriel glared across at his partner.

"I see intentions remember and she wants you to like her," Peter grinned.

"She won't later," the former killer muttered.

"How do you know that?" Peter asked. "I gave you a chance, why wouldn't she? You did save her life remember."

Gabriel gave him the drop-it look.

"Alight, be that way," Peter shrugged, "but finding someone, anyone, might help you fight the Hunger."

"And they might end up dead."

"I've been to the future you know. Having other people didn't do you that much harm."

"I blew up Costa Verde," Gabriel pointed out. He'd learned about Peter's trips into the future a long time ago in the dream Matt Parkman had trapped him in.

"Yeah, but it was an accident," Peter pointed out

"Ever the optimist. I think Emma is a bad influence on you."

"What?" Peter looked offended. "Don't think you can get out of this conversation just by insulting my girlfriend. I want to know what that comment was about your parents?"

"Nothing," Gabriel answered, looking away sharply.

"No, the only time you talk about them is when you're drunk or high on power," Peter pointed out. Neither of the instances he was referencing had ended well.

There was a moment of silence. "My biological mother... my father killed her the day he sold me." Gabriel's voice was soft. It was only when it took on that tone that Peter believed his companion had once been just a humble watchmaker.

"Let's find a place to crash for the night," Peter muttered and pulled off the interstate at a well populated exit. Gabriel remained silent, but glanced back at the woman asleep behind him.

-HEROES-

"Good morning, Noah" Lauren Gilmore greeted her co-worker/lover, putting a steaming cup of coffee on her desk. She wasn't quite sure what to call him, even after three year, because you couldn't be sure of anything with Noah Bennet and he didn't quite know what to call her so it was alright.

"Not like I didn't see you just two hours ago," Noah sighed, putting down a file and turning his piercing gaze on the blond before him.

"Yes well," She smiled. "I was just upholding the mock facade that we aren't violating the personnel code every other night."

"I see," His smile said everything she needed to hear. _It's nice to be cared for, thank you._ "Lunch today?"

"Of course." Lauren smiled before turning and walking away. Noah looked down at his coffee and frowned at the sharpie'd checkmark on 'Black'; their code for trouble.

Ten minutes later they met behind the Deuvoux building, at a strategically placed blind spot in the cameras.

"What is it?" Bennet asked, all play fullness gone from his voice.

"They're moving today, the order went out for Peter and Sylar last night. They'll hit the Relocation office this evening."

"Claire..." the protective father took over in Bennet.

"Stick to the plan," Lauren warned.

"Always," Noah nodded. He may have become ruled by his feelings but he was still a company man.

"I'm sorry I couldn't warn you soo..." Lauren was cut off by a quick press of warm lips on her own that left a familiar taste of coffee on the tip of her tongue.

"Be careful," Noah warned before slipping away into the building. Lauren took a minute to catch her breath.

"I'm too old for this," She muttered, feeling like a frivolous teenager and smiling happily in spite of herself.

-HEROES-

The lights of Washington D.C. lit the darkening sky as Peter drove into the city. Behind him Sophie was reading aloud from her poetry book with a clear and strong voice.

"Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,

With an eye like its crystals, a heart like its glow;

Once I was loved for my innocent grace,—

Flattered and sought for the charm of my face.

Father, Mother, Sisters all, God, and myself, I have lost by my fall.

The veriest wretch that goes shivering by

Will take a wide sweep, lest I wander too nigh..."

She paused to turn the page and Gabriel picked up without missing a beat, reciting from memory.

"For all that is on or about me, I know

There is nothing that's pure but the beautiful snow."

"You have it memorized?" Sophie looked at him in shock. "Show off." Gabriel laughed and looked down humbly.

"It's a favorite," he admitted, "you read well."

"I used to read poetry at a school for the blind when I was in High School. It was a way to get community service hours."

Peter saw Gabriel's smile in the rear view mirror and couldn't help noticing it was genuine. He'd heard the usually cynical or dismal man laugh more in the two day car ride than he had in a month of assignments together. It was a nice change from the constant worry that Sylar might return in the middle of the night.

"We're almost there," Peter told them, reluctant to intrude.

"Thank God," Sophie sighed. "I think I'll go crazy if I have to spend another hour in this car. Not that I don't like you guy." She added quickly.

"I understand completely." Gabriel answered. He was used to flying by his own power, planes and cars didn't agree with him.

"Peter," Gabriel said, his voice suddenly serious.

"What?"

"The SUV behind us... I've seen it twice today."

Peter caught sight of the car behind him and a passing street lamp illuminated the driver enough for him to see the man's face and for his borrowed power to work. Adrenalin pumped through his system and he glanced meaningfully at Gabriel.

"Who is it?" Sophie asked.

"Just keep your head down and stay buckled," Gabriel used his most persuasive voice. Climbing over the seats to the front he pulled a loaded handgun from the glove compartment.

"The radicals?" Gabriel asked in a hushed voice as he checked the ammunition before handing the gun to Peter.

"Capture, don't kill," Peter answered.

"So someone else, we have to split up," he told the paramedic, catching the other man's hand as Peter accepted the weapon.

"No, Sophie..."

"I'll protect her," Gabriel's voice rang with conviction, "I have a better chance of fighting them and you know it. Take flight and go! I'll see you in three days where we always meet."

Golden energy seemed to flow from Gabriel to Peter over their hands before Peter let go suddenly, opened the door and leaped out of speeding car.

"Peter!" Sophie cried. Gabriel focused on the road, sliding into the vacated driver's seat. In the mirrors he saw a dark blur dodging around the tailing SUV. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Gabriel turned the car off the road to a side street, winding through the grid till he could swerve with a scream of burning rubber into a parking garage. Pushing the speed he wound up, and up, till the night sky was over them again. Sophie nearly threw up when the car pulled to a sudden stop. In what seemed like no time at all Gabriel was at her door, opening it and beckoning her to get out.

"What's going on?" She managed to ask but one look at his worried face told her now was not the time for answers.

"We have to get out of here," He stated, pulling her from the vehicle. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Trust me?" he asked and for a moment the world was quiet but for the frantic beating of Sophie's heart. Then the screech of tires brought bright headlights around the corner and she was blinded.

Gabriel didn't wait for the answer, just wrapped the girl in his arms and kicked off from the ground into the air. Twenty feet up and over the empty street below he felt it, a tazzer bullet coursing through Sophie's body and into his. If it hadn't been for Elle Bishops ability he would have fallen, unconscious, to the street below. Half dazed he could see the pavement racing up toward him and a fear he hadn't know since taking Caire Bennet's gift jolted him into wakefulness, but it wasn't fear for himself because he'd long since learned he couldn't die. He didn't have time to ponder why it was so vitally important to slow his fall before slamming into the pavement; he only knew that it was. Then the world was blackness and pain.

-HEROES-

Just across the Capital city, Claire Bennet was leaving the OSA headquarters for the night. Like every other day she took the elevator down to the parking deck below the building. No sooner had the doors opened then the barrel of a shotgun and a gloved hand twisted around the corner. The would-be-assailant was greeted by a less than complacent victim. Taking the gloved hand in her own, Claire controlled the point of the weapon while throwing the man's weight toward the opposite side of the doorway. The man was saved from a painful crack on the corner of the wall by his helmet but it didn't protect his chin from the harsh up thrust of the gun into his face just seconds later.

Claire Bennet didn't stop to admire her work but turned to search for her attacker's companion, these types of people never come alone. An identically dressed man, dark helmet, gloves and body suit lay just a few feet away on the pavement, taser wires curling up to the hands of Noah Bennet.

"Dad?" Claire exclaimed.

"Now's not the time," The man in the horn rimmed glasses told her quickly, "We have to get you out of here." He pressed a set of keys into her hand while lifting hers from her bag effortlessly.

"What? What's going on? Who was that who attacked me? How did they get into the OSA building..." somewhere in the echoing concrete parking deck, booted feet pounded.

"There's no time to explain," Noah dragged his adoptive daughter by the arm to an unfamiliar car. "Get in and drive. Hide, stay out of trouble."

"What? No!" Claire exclaimed as her father opened the driver's door. "I can't just leave..."

"I warned you this would happen!"

"The OSA would never!"

"Then how did they get into the building?" Noah demanded. "Go now! Don't believe me? Call the other people in your department, they're gone, never made it home!"

Claire felt her blood run cold as confidence shone in her father's eyes.

"I can't just..."

"Please Claire-bare," Noah begged. Pouty lipped Claire bent her head, defeat clear in every muscle of her body.

"My car's two rows over toward the exit."

"Thank you," Noah relaxed at her words. With one last look at his daughter climbing into the new car, he sprinted, crouched low, through the parking garage.

Halfway in the car Claire turned to see her father gone and slipped back out. Her back pressed against the wall she slid along it till the creeping grab team came into her view, fanning out on the other side of the deck. The small blond kicked off her high heels, ignoring the cold concrete and hard rocks under her feet. With one mad dash she reached the service entrance, conveniently hidden behind a government SUV. Pausing at the door she heard movement on the other side, of course they would cover all the exits. The screech of tires filled the parking deck as Claire's red Chevy tore toward the exit. The service door beside her flew open and, oblivious to the blond behind them, the grab team streamed like black ants, into the garage. Claire slid silently around the closing door; her pursuer's running blindly after her father.

The blond woman ghosted up the stairs to the now abandoned relocation office where a few computers whirred, abandoned. Her eyes traced over the desks and semi private offices she'd worked in for the past two and a half years. All she saw were the hundreds of Specials that might be in danger if her father's fears had come to light and the OSA was left with the information her office recorded. Every Special she'd ever relocated or saved would be in jeopardy. Face set Claire hurried to her office where she stashed her own panic kit, three bottles of lighter fluid and a box of matches.

Flames were leaping in the records room and main offices as Claire made her way to the safe at the end of the hall, it had become her responsibility to protect the contended. Inside was the key to finding the Sanctuary, the town of Specials created by the remnants of the Sullivan Brother's Circus. Claire dialed in her code and removed from the otherwise empty vault, a box engraved with a compass. Looking back and forth Claire opened the box and pulled out a leather pouch. She glanced into the box at the five identical bags inside before tossing the whole box into the nearest pile of burning papers. Pouch in hand Clair made for the exit, choking on the smoke as she fled the burning building. Outside, fire trucks speed up to all sides, their crews hurrying inside. No one noticed the small blonde slipping into the growing crowd of spectators or taking an abandoned taxi away from the scene. They only saw the OSA building in flames, it's records lost.

-HEROES-

[AN: Tell me what you thought of Chapter 1. There's lots more to come if you like it. The story gets timey-wimey, there's some romance, some death, Mohinder, evil Sylar, etc. R&R Thanks. –Selena]


	2. Chapter 2

[AN: First of all, thank you to the one wonderful person who reviewed, u.k owen; you made my day! To answer your question about Sylar/Gabriel; it's part of the story but no, he hasn't picked up any new powers worth noting yet. Further updates of this story might be sporadic at best… I'm a senior in high school so my life is far from relaxing right now. Anyway there will be five or six chapters in total. I hope you like chapter 2.-sel]

-HEROES-

**Chapter 2: Foreshadowing**

**Some say the world will end in fire,**

**Some say in ice.**

**From what I've tasted of desire**

**I hold with those who favor fire.**

**But if it had to perish twice,**

**I think I know enough of hate**

**To say that for destruction ice**

**Is also great**

**And would suffice.**

**-Robert Frost**

Angela Petrelli knew the familiar feeling of dreams. In the one that held her she could feel cold wind on her face, a familiar power coursing through her as city lights speed away. Before her loomed the dawn and the New York skyline. Suddenly the wind changed, it caught the body that wasn't hers and sent it sprawling through the air. Peter cried out to his mother as he fell into the darkness, plummeting to his death from the sky. Turning in her dream Angela saw behind her to the south, a brightly illuminated mushroom cloud, silhouetted against the night.

The aging woman sat upright with a start, eyes searching her dark bedroom.

'Ding dong.'

Downstairs the doorbell rang. She pulled her nightgown closer around herself and her expression darkened as slipped out of bed.

Her unexpected, night time guests were waiting in the front hall with her butler when she descended the stairs, dressed in a simple but elegant dress.

"This is rather rude," She told them. "When I agreed to work for you Mr. Martins I thought I made myself clear. I don't want to ever see you in my house." She walked right up to the tall man in the center of the room. He was dressed smartly and wore authority like a crown.

"Ms. Petrelli," He greeted her. "I thought you might like to hear this from a familiar face."

"And what makes you think your face is pleasant in the least?" She asked.

"Nothing," He answered smoothly.

"The plan went into action just hours ago," Angela noted, "please don't say you're here to tell me you've messed up already."

"These things are never perfect," He shrugged.

"What did you screw up now?" She asked with pursed lips.

"Haven't your dreams already told you?"

"They're not a crystal ball," Angela glared. For a moment she wondered if he knew her dreams had become infrequent and more confusing lately. She brushed off that thought as Martains gave his report.

"98% of our targets were captured or removed but… your granddaughter slipped through our fingers."

"Did she now," Angela smirked. "I doubt she was alone."

"No," Mr. Martins conceded through tight lips. "It seems Noah Bennet has turned on us."

"I warned you of that," She told him. "You never should have thought you could control Bennet." Angela turned to leave, if that was all Martins had come to say he shouldn't have bothered to come at all. "Claire won't come here. She hates me more than she'll ever hate you." The head strong young blond had never forgiven Angela for what happened after her father's death. As she mounted the curving staircase, Angela felt the familiar pang of loss and failure that came every time she thought of Claire.

"She's not the reason I came here," Martins said louder. Angel paused on the stairs. "It's your son Peter."

"What about Peter?" Angela turned back quickly, eyes dark.

"We tried to only grab Sylar but… he got in the way. We can only conclude that… He died." Martins met her eyes firmly without any hit of remorse in their transparent blue depths. "My deepest condolences."

"His body?" Angela asked.

"Lost in the Potomac River," Martins lied smoothly.

"I see," Angela swallowed pronouncedly. "You may leave."

"Of course," Martins motioned to his guard. "The OSA thanks you for your help and co-operation."

"Just go," Angela answered without looking at her guests.

In her dim bedroom Angela picked up her phone and dialed. There was a response moments later.

"Mr. Campbell," She said sternly. "We need to meet."

"That sounds like fun, Ms. Petrelli," Luke Campbell answered from the other end of the line. Beside him in the speeding car, James Hillman smiled darkly. _Mama Pettreli and Luke… everything is falling into place_, he thought a dark smile on his face and looked down at the broken watch on his wrist and the word 'Sylar' looking up at him from under the hour hand.

Luke Campbell's car speed North to New York, passing a car crash off the side of the road and blaring police vehicles around it just outside of Washington D.C; A red Chevy had run head first into the side of a large black SUV. An identical SUV speed up and stopped next to the police cruisers. Black suited men jumped out and flooded the area.

"It's alright," Lauren Gilmore's voice called to her fellow OSA agents. "I've got him."

"Where's the girl?" The man in charge of the team yelled.

"There was no girl," Lauren explained as she pulled Noah Bennet, cuffed and bruised, from the police car she'd been leaning against. "If you mean his daughter, Claire then I doubt you'll find her here. She's as cunning as _he_ is stubborn; she's long gone."

"What? Who the hell are you?" The captain demanded.

"Agent Gilmore," the blonde woman pulled out her badge where the OSA insignia shone in the flashing police lights, "I'm the woman who just caught your traitor." The captain looked Lauren over then looked over Noah Bennet, who was glaring at his ex-girlfriend with murderous eyes.

"Alright," He concluded, motioning to some of his men. "Get him in the car. He goes to lock up too."

Lauren relinquished her prisoner and he was led away.

"That was good work, Agent Gilmore," the Leader commended her, removing his helmet.

"Just doing my job, protecting American Citizens," Lauren responded robotically. In the window of the police car she saw Noah reflected in the glass as he was shoved into the SUV less than kindly.

"It won't go un noted," The man in black army gear assured her and they shook hands firmly. The black SUV pulled away moments later with Noah inside.

A bumpy ride and four hours later, the regulation black head bag was removed as Noah Bennet was shoved harshly into his cell. Before his eyes could readjust to the light, the heavy door slammed shut with a resounding crash that echoed through the concrete cell.

Blearily he looked around at the grey walls, wide viewing window looking out into the hall, and hard cot he'd been given. He'd found himself in a cell, again. Sitting with a sigh on the unyielding bed he allowed himself a small smile. Things were all going as planned.

Just two cells down an equally gray and nondescript hallway, in an identically un-yielding bed, Gabriel Gray woke up to the feeling of a needle in his arm. Blearily he looked over at the masked face beside him. The needle was removed and he heard urgent but burred voices. His vision swam and fuzzy shapes moved around the undefined space before him.

The resounding slam of the door jerked Gabriel awake. He sat up quickly and felt his head swim.

"How much did you give him?" A slippery voice could be heard through the glass wall to his right.

"Twice the normal dose," a female voice answered.

"Increase the dose if that doesn't kill him," the first voice answered. Gabriel's vision cleared enough for him to see the speaker standing before the glass, looking at him with cold blue eyes.

"Martins," He rasped out through a sore throat.

"Mr. Larson… or should I say Gray seeing as your employment with the OSA has just been terminated?" Hector Martins smiled at his former employee from behind the glass.

"You did this? You bastard!" Gabriel stood and stumbled toward the glass.

"Careful there," Martins smiled darkly. "The sedative will take a while to wear off." Gabriel feel forward against the glass, breathing heavily from the effort it took just to cross his small cell. It took immense energy to lift his head and meet the gaze of his former boss.

Through the window he could see across the hall to an identical cell. A young woman was standing at the glass looking back at him.

"Sophie," He whispered her name without thinking. Her wide dark eyes met his and she put a hand to the glass as if she could reach out and touch his.

"Oh yes," Martins noted. "Your last assignment. Thank you for bringing her in. It's lucky you broke her fall off the parking garage, I'm hoping she'll be useful in the future."

"Leave her alone!" Gabriel growled. "Her power is passive, there's no reason to…"

"Passive?" Martins' eyes went cold. "No, no, no, Gabriel. Don't be so naive. She's a weapon; a weapon against you and all of your kind. Specials… how did you ever get that name? Cursed would be more appropriate or Damned."

"You B—" Gabriel's voice was cut off from the hall with a flick of a switch. He yelled and beat at the glass but no sound reached Martins.

"Have a nice day, Gabriel," The Director of the Office of Special's Affairs, smiled at his prisoner before turning that smile on Sophie. It spread into a grin as she backed away from him in disgust. He left her staring across the hall at Gabriel while he looked back with a mixture of worry and unbridled anger.

-HEROES—

Claire snuck, bare foot and shivering, up to the door of her co-worker, Martha's apartment. She wouldn't say that she and Martha were friends; actually they had decided on day one that they would avoid each other. It suited Claire fine, Martha reminded her of Jackie, her old cheerleading co-captain. The blonde's hand was poised over the doorbell when she saw the splintered wood around the lock. Pushing the broken door open Claire looked around carefully. The small basement apartment Martha rented looked empty so she went in. A quick search showed her that the grab-team had hit here as well. Quickly Claire checked the street. She started rummaging through the woman's belongings and packing essentials, water, clothes, and hunting up a pair of sensible shoes amid the rows of high heels.

'Bing!' Martha's computer jumped to life. Claire jumped violently at the noise, a red stiletto poised in her hands as a weapon. Seeing the diffuse light of the screen across the room she walked over and looked down at the appliance. It had been knocked off the table and lay, screen cracked, on the floor. A message was displayed in basic white type over the black background.

'Its good to see you, Claire. -REBEL'

"Rebel? How did you find me?" She wondered aloud.

'Web cam. Looking for anyone who got away.'

"Who else have you found?" Claire asked quickly, bending down to the screen.

'Youre the first.'

"Peter?"

'idk. Gabriel and his friend were caught.'

"Sylar," Claire corrected. "Who's his friend?"

'I dont know her but she is one of us.'

"Look, I need to find Peter," Claire told her friend, she now knew him as Micha Sanders, a resident of the Sanctuary.

'I will look for him. You need to come home.' Claire rolled her eyes. She knew what he meant by home. They still thought she would be better off there than working in DC. Even now, she was loath to admit that they were right.

"I will," She assured him. "Find Peter. I have to go. I can't stay in one place too long."

'Be careful.' REBEL left as his parting last words before the screen went dead again.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Claire responded and picked up her new bag. "Time to go find some answers." She said with a determined face and left the ransacked apartment.

-HEROES—

'Martha' wasn't actually the name of the woman who worked in the office next to Claire Bennet's. Samantha Henrich, as she was more commonly called, was nothing like the air headed slut she pretended to be at the OSA. At that moment she was returning to the STRIKE underground hideout, the retrofitted basement of an abandoned construction site, after arriving in New York by plane just an hour before dawn. Below the first level, the walls were graffitied with the movement's symbol, a fist pointing up, painted in black on yellow.

"Welcome back, Sam," A friend of hers sneered as she passed where he was reclined against a wall, semi-automatic hand gun held casually at his side. "Have fun pampering to the mutants?"

"It was a drag," She replied and gave him her best smile.

"You do that too well," He joked, falling into step. "You better have something good for the boss."

"Oh I do," She assured him with a knowing smile.

"Well spill," he prompted.

"The OSA turned on them, all the Specials. I was pretending to be one, a low level precog," she rolled her eyes, "and they came after me. Broke into my apartment."

"So the government's finally getting the picture," the man beside her grinned and punched the air. "They're coming around, realizing what a threat these _things_ are if they're left to live among us."

"So it would seem," She said opening a double door and entering the central command room. Thorley Symons, a tall man with graying hair and an army cut turned around.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded. "You abandoning everything we've gained in the past two years?" Samantha was wary of the man in front of her, given his tone. He'd rallied most of STRIKE behind him with his morally questionable but profitable tactics.

"I was attacked," She said simply, "The OSA turned on all the Specials they saw as a threat, started rounding up all their agents and personnel to start."

There was a perceptible change in the room as people stood up and moved closer. Thorley's right hand man got up and moved closer around the main table, milling people at the edges of the room crowded in to watch, at the far end of the table Neil Symons sat up straight in his chair but didn't come closer. Thorley took a moment to gather attention.

"What are they doing with the captives?" He demanded, his voice loud in the hushed room.

"Those that aren't dead are driven off, I suspect to be imprisoned. I've heard rumors that the OSA has built a high security prison and ordered a stock of drugs to keep the prisoners under control." Samantha reported as she'd been taught, like a soldier, hands clasped behind her back.

"Any publicity?" He asked.

"None and they don't seem to have plans for any," She answered, shaking her head and her short red-dyed ponytail swayed.

"Damn," Thorley turned and paced for a moment, emotions of rabid excitement and frustration flitting across his expressive face. "We need them to take this public, tell the people what dangers they face."

"There's something else," Samantha said with a wide grin and her friend looked shocked, insulted to have been left out of the scoop. "I stole this." From the inside pocket of her jacket she brought a compass, suspended on a twine loop. It spun before Thorley's ginning face.

"A compass to the rumored Sanctuary," he muttered. "This is what we've been waiting for. This is our change to deal them a crushing blow. Pack it up!" His voice jumped into a commanding tone. "We'll be moving soon!" His eyes fixed on the compass in his hand he gave the smirking Samantha a pat on the shoulder before walking out. Behind him Neil Symons sat at the table alone and pale, eyes fixed on his father's receding back and his usual impassive mask firmly in place.

-HEROES—

Across the city on the fourth floor of an old apartment building in Manhattan, Emma Coolidge slept soundly. She rolled over in her warm bed and felt the opposite side for a body that wasn't there. Disappointed, she woke with a frown. Peter was gone again. She stood, admiring the colors that hung like an opalescent haze outside her window. Light across the room caught her eye. Her phone on the dresser was sending out blue and green swirls that sparked with red. Flipping open the device she saw two messages waiting. The first was from Gabriel, a rarity.

'We will be two days more

Pete sends his love'

Emma smiled as she envisioned the annoyed face Gabriel would have made as he sent the message. She liked Gabriel a lot but she knew he didn't like to be a messenger.

The second was from Peter

'call Samuel'

Emma felt the blood run from her face. When Peter explained to her that as an agent for the OSA he might be the target of some extremist Anti-Specials they'd planned out an emergency code. Any mention of Samuel Sullivan meant she was to drop everything and head for the Sanctuary. Setting down the phone Emma opened the top drawer and from under her night clothes pulled out a compass that spun wildly in her palm. She sighed as it came to a stop.

Worry was creeping into her heart as she tried and failed not to think about Peter. _Where are you, _she wondered. _Are you safe? Are you even still alive?_ Pushing those questions aside she pulled out her suitcase. In ten minutes she was driving south west, out of New York.

-HEROES—

In Los Angeles Matt Parkman was making pancakes for his family, the last of the batter going into a bubbly puddle on the pan. Molly sat at the kitchen table beside Matt Jr., helping him with his food as he needed it.

"Matt," Janice called to her husband as she came in the front door. "There's a package here for you." She passed it over the table too him.

"Who's sending me mail?" Matt looked over the hand scrawled address on the small square cardboard box. He opened it with a steak knife from the block and his heart sunk. At the bottom was a compass and a letter. He pulled it out quickly and read the few lines there.

'_Gabriel and I were attacked. You might be in danger. The Sanctuary is still safe as far as I know. Be careful. –Peter'_

"What's wrong honey?" Janice asked as she came over and quickly flipped the burning pancakes on the stove.

"I think we have to leave," he whispered to her.

"What?" She turned to him, confusion and worry in her face.

"Something's happened to Peter and he sent me this," Matt tipped the box toward her so she could see the compass.

"What does it mean?" She asked.

"We're in danger, Matty, Molly and me," He wanted more than ever to know what was going on in her head but held back his power and pleaded with her through his eyes. And angel on earth, his wife accepted what he'd said without argument.

"What do we tell Molly?" Janice asked, looking over to where Molly was feeding Matty bites of Pancake.

"Hey Molly," Matt said without conviction.

"Yeah?" She asked, face falling as she picked up on the nonverbal signs of distress in her adoptive parents.

"We're gonna have to go away for a while," he started to say.

"The boogyman came back didn't he," Molly asked worriedly. Matt was confused for a moment till he remembered that Molly had been running from the serial killer, Sylar practically her whole life. To her, he would always be the bad guy.

"No," Matt assured her quickly. "It's just some people who are looking for Specials and we need to disappear for a while."

"Ok," She didn't look convinced.

"You need to go pack some of your clothes and anything you absolutely need," Janice told her. "Do you want my help?"

"No," Molly said softly.

"Ok," Janice could feel the disappointment and fear that came from the young girl. She just wanted a normal life and since the day Sylar showed up on her doorstep that had eluded her. Government facilities, the company, Mohinder's apartment, his mother's house, and now Matt's, she hadn't stayed very long in any one place since coming to live with the cop that saved her life two and a half years ago, after the death of Ms. Suresh. The prospect of leaving what she'd thought was finally _her _home wasn't easy to swallow.

"Will we ever come back?" She asked from the doorway.

"Of course," Matt assured her. "It'll just be for a little while." Janice gave him a stern look and picked up their son from his high chair.

"Go pack," She told him, "I'll get him ready." Matt nodded looking out the window worriedly. His thoughts went back to the van he'd seen outside their house and promised himself that he would do everything in his power to keep his family safe.

-HEROES—

Gabriel had taken to pacing in his cell, when he wasn't looking over at Sophie to make sure she was alright. No sound traveled across the hall so they could only look at each other. Mostly Sophie sat on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest and lips moving as she talked or prayed. Gabriel realized he didn't know if Sophie was religious. Looking back he couldn't remember seeing anything to suggest it in her house but he'd lost any interest in religion after learning about Specials; he couldn't believe god would make people with an ability like his or many of the other's he'd seen.

Gabriel kept pacing, running a nervous hand through his hair as he did. When he looked back at Sophie he found Martins was back.

"Martins!" He ran at the wall and beat against the glass but Martins didn't seem to hear him or just didn't care, his back was to Gabriel. In the opposite cell Gabriel watched as Sophie's face transformed from worry to horror and she shook her head emphatically, her short curly hair bouncing. From further down the hall a large, unruly man was dragged by two armed guards. Gabriel could only watch as they pushed the man toward Sophie's door. The young woman was now in panic and visibly pleading with Martins.

"No…" Gabriel didn't realize the word had passed his mouth. "Martin's you bastard, No!" Vainly he beat his fist against the wall and felt something in his hand break. Blind to the pain Gabriel watched as the large man was released into Sophie's cell. She backed away from him as he looked between Martins and his new cell mate.

Then something Martins said mad the man snap. In three steps he had Sophie cornered against the far wall and pinned her there, his hands tightening around her throat.

Gabriel cried out in helpless furry, beating against the glass till it was red with blood and still he was shaking with anger as his eyes met Sophie's wide and terrified ones. He was helpless for the first time in so long, helpless to stop murder right in front of his eyes. Somewhere in his mind Sylar laughed. _You'd have done the same thing at one time,_ the killers voice noted and only fueled Gabriel's fury.

With a wave of Martins' hand the armed guards entered the cell and dragged the large man off of Sophie before she blacked out. She gasped and heaved on the floor as they dragged the would-be-murderer from the cell. Now he was the one who looked terrified and screamed loudly as they dragged him down the cell but Gabriel heard none of it.

Martins shook his head with disappointment. That disappointment turned to amusement when his eyes fell on the red glass of Gabriel's cell. He casually flicked a switch and Gabriel heard Sophie's labored breathing carried through the speakers from her cell to his.

"Good afternoon Gabriel," the head of the OSA said to him as he crossed the hall and flicked an identical switch next to the other cell; the breathing was cut off mid stream. "What has prompted all the theatrics? I find it hard to believe you'd throw such a fit for one small girl. That's unfitting of your character. Just three years ago you'd have killed her without a thought but now…"

"I've changed," Gabriel spat; Martians' words were too much like Sylar's.

"Yes, so I've heard. You know we never trusted you Gabriel," Martins smiled.

"Good," the man behind the glass glared back, "I never really trusted you either. I didn't join for you and I certainly didn't stay to help you."

"Yes, Franklin recruited you personally if I remember," Martins smirked. "I always thought that was a mistake but here's your chance to prove me wrong. Ms. Stone has been rather uncooperative. Convince her to do as she's told and… well I might let her live, in fact I might let you live."

Gabriel's blood ran cold. He'd always considered the man before him to be evil but he'd never realized how much the two of them had in common. The situation was something he might have dreamt up or taken pleasure in creating.

The armored Guards came at Martins beckon and roughly led Gabriel across the hall. He knew they'd leave bruises on his arms but couldn't find it in him to care.

In the hall he looked quickly left and right, earning himself a box around his ears but he could discern that there were 30 maybe forty cells in the hall. It didn't tell him much as he didn't know how big the facility was in total. They shoved him into Sophie's cell unceremoniously and closed the door with the same resounding bang. Sophie jumped up from her cowering position in the corner where she'd fallen.

"Gabriel!" She cried and hurried across the room in his arms. He found himself holding her before he understood why.

"Gabriel… I didn't… I couldn't… He was gonna kill me." She whispered the last words. The tall man led Sophie to the bed and had her sit. He filled the plastic cup on the edge of the sink with water and brought in to her. Cup in hand, she slowly brought her tears under control.

"What did they want you to do?" Gabriel asked her when she'd taken a few sips of the water.

"That man… he wanted me to… You said the OSA would help me… that…"

"Something has gone wrong," Gabriel explained.

"Wrong?" She looked at him with disbelieving eyes. "I'm… I'm being held captive by my own government."

Gabriel couldn't come up with a response to that. Being locked up, being mistrusted, being hunted, hated, watched, he was used to all of that. Sophie had never been in that kind of situation and it was hard on normal people. Gabriel bent his head.

"We're never getting out of her are we?" She asked.

"You might," Gabriel took his chance. "If you do what Martins wants he may let you out, find a place for you outside of here."

"Do you know what he wanted me to do?" She asked him, betrayal glistening in her eyes. "That man he put in here can turn things to dust _with his bare hands_ and Martins wants me to take that away. How am I supposed to do that?" She demanded.

"You can alter a person's DNA. You've done it before, you just didn't know it." Gabriel assured her. _For both of their sakes he had to convince her._

"I had no idea I was even doing anything!" She lashed out, throwing down the cup and the water splashed over the concrete, leaving a dark, wet puddle.

"Sophie," Gabriel sat beside her on the bed and drew her into his arms. "Please," he whispered in her ear. "Believe me, you can do this because if you don't… if you don't…" He couldn't finish his sentence. Sophie was innocent, the white flower he couldn't touch. So few of the Specials he and Peter approached over the past three years had known his background just like Sophie. He'd started to draw a line between people who knew who he'd been and people who didn't. Now he couldn't make himself cross that line and bring Sophie into the dark world of his past and present. She was innocent and didn't belong in the prison, with him, in any of it.

"Time's up Gabriel," Martins voice cut in.

"I have to go," Gabriel told Sophie. She started shaking in his arms.

"I do…"

"What?" He asked, not sure if he'd heard her right.

"I do trust you," She whispered before rough hands tore Gabriel away and dragged him from Sophie's bed. He looked back over his shoulder but Sophie didn't meet his eyes.

Back in his own cell Gabriel watched as the man who'd tried to murder Sophie was brought back on a gurney this time, unconscious. With a glance at Martins, then at Gabriel, Sophie took the man's hand in her own. He shivered once under the straps of the gurney then went still. Sophie stepped away, fresh tear tracks running down her face. She looked at Gabriel with her dark eyes then settled again on her bed, holding her knees to her chest and rocking as she spoke words he couldn't hear. Martins gave Gabriel a dark smile before following the gurney out of sight. Gabriel just stood in his cell rubbing his uninjured hands and staring at the blood on the glass between him and the hallway. _The man couldn't harm Sophie with his ability. They must have drugged him so he couldn't but I… _he looked down at the pale unbroken skin of his hands. _Why am I still able to use mine?_ He wondered.

-HEROES—

"Interesting place for a meeting," Luke Campbell noted as he came to stand beside Angela Pettreli in the private gallery she'd told him to come to.

"I didn't think you'd be able to afford any of the restaurants I frequent so I settled for something less expensive." She responded without turning. "You're just a boy. Why would the U.S.R. trust you to meet me? Do they value my help at all?" She asked.

"We value it above all else," Luke told her with only a touch of sarcasm. "That's why I'm here."

"I see," She answered. "I need your help and in exchange I'll give you any information you want on the OSA."

"That's quite an offer," he noted mildly, "what do you require."

"The location of my son," She answered.

"Why would you need that?" Luke met her eyes finally and found nothing but stone looking back. He'd heard that Angela Petrelli was heartless but he'd never seen it for himself.

"I'll need your promise that you'll look," She answered, "and it doesn't do you any good not to because he's the most powerful man you could recruit to your cause."

"Besides Sylar," Luke countered.

"But Sylar has already been captured."

"Then you know where he is?" Luke asked.

"Show me that you're looking for my son and I'll tell you," She answered, "you have my number."

Luke held back an angry retort and just nodded instead.

"Then there is nothing more we need to say," She went back to admiring the art on the white walls.

Without a goodbye Luke turned and left. Outside, James Hillman was watching through one of the galleries' large windows.

"She's a real piece of work," He noted to Luke.

"She's looking for her son." James looked suddenly interested.

"What is she offering in return for our help?" He asked, picking up on the situation fast.

"She can tell us where Sylar is," Luke smirked and walked past his companion down the street. James's confused face disappeared as he grinned darkly. _So that's how they found me,_ he thought. _Dear old Angela._ Still grinning he turned and followed Luke into the dark New York streets, he'd have to slip away soon. There was somewhere else he needed to be that night.

-HEROES—

Peter glanced around Kirby Plaza carefully. He'd followed the plan, laid low for three days, warned their friends, sent Emma to the Sanctuary, checked on his mother in secret, careful not to plan when or how in case he showed up in her dreams. Now he was anxious. Reluctant as he was to admit it, Gabriel had become a good friend over their three years working for the OSA. They'd gotten through some difficult situations together, relying on and trusting each other.

Peter admitted he'd like to have his partner back. Last time he was hunted by the government he had Matt Parkman and Mohinder as allies. He felt like he was running from Denko again but this time he didn't know who was chasing him or why. The man following them had been in a government van but Peter worked for the Government, the OSA had been created to help Specials, not hurt them. Where had things gone wrong?

A lone figure by the fountain caught Peter's eye. The shadows of the city had fallen and the plaza was quickly emptying. With one last cautionary sweep of the area Peter walked out. Approaching the short man with the coffee cup in his hand Peter saw what he was looking for, a curving 'S' shape crossed by three horizontal lines drawn on the white cardboard. Peter leaned against the fountain beside the apparent stranger.

"Interesting choice of disguise Gabriel," he noted in a hushed voice.

"What?" Hiro turned around. "Peter Petrelli?"

"Hiro?" Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was sent from the past to warn you," Hiro said urgently. "Ms. Franklin says that you are in danger and I must come here to save you." He grinned at the last few words.

"Yeah I know I'm in danger," Peter sighed and glanced around the plaza again, his eyes catching on a suspicious figure in the shadows.

"You know?" Hiro asked in confusion.

"We need to get out of the open," Peter decided as the figure stepped out. "Now."

"Ok," Hiro put his hand on Peter's arm, closing his eyes he thought of the only other place in New York he knew. The two disappeared with a whoosh and the figure in the shadows stopped in his tracks.

"Damn," James Hillman muttered. For a moment his face seemed to ripple and lose its shape. "I almost had you Peter. Now where did you go?" He pulled a pen from his pocket and a crumpled note pad.

"I'll know soon enough," He smiled, his eyes going a scary shade of white as the pen moved chaotically across the page.

-HEROES—

Peter looked around at his new surroundings, the glass walls, concrete floors, and odd assortment of abandoned furniture were all too familiar.

"Isaac's loft?" He asked Hiro skeptically.

"It's the only place I know," the small Japanese man replied.

"No," Peter smiled. "It's fine."

"What is going on?" Hiro asked. "I got a letter from Rosalyn Franklin telling me to go back in time and I saw the Brain-man kill…"

"Woah, Sylar?" Peter stopped Hiro by putting up his hand.

"Yes," Hiro said urgently, "three months ago the Brain man killed someone who wanted to kill Rosalyn Franklin. Then he transformed into the dead man and said _he _was going to kill Ms. Franklin."

"Three months ago?" Peter asked. "No, Gabriel and I were part of Rosalyn's protection detail. He was with me the whole day. He was the one who caught her after… she was shot," sadness filled Peter's voice for the loss of his Director. "That's impossible," he finished, getting back on topic.

"I know what I saw," Hiro defended himself.

"It wasn't Gabriel," Peter argued, "and how did you find me? No one else knows about that meeting spot."

"Ms. Franklin," Hiro said simply and handed Peter the letter the man with the horn rimmed glasses had given him. Peter glanced at it quickly.

"Franklin had the gift of precognition; she saw the future," Peter explained.

"Like Mr. Isaac," Hiro exclaimed.

"Yeah," the taller man nodded. "That's one of the reasons she was appointed to the head of the OSA. She'd been building it for years before Claire revealed us to the world."

"Then she saw all of this?" Hiro asked.

"I guess so," Peter sighed.

"Why would she contact you though?" Peter wondered. He handed back the letter and started pacing the room.

"You saw Sylar three months ago where I know he couldn't have been, Gabriel and I got attacked by government goons, Franklin sent you to meet me at Kirby Plaza, what does it all mean?" Peter muttered. He stopped in front of a stack of paintings that had never been moved, they were leaning against the wall and covered in dust. With the fall of the company and Pinehurst he would guess they'd just been abandoned. Peter bent down to look closer.

The first was of Claire, facing the canvas with a look of fear on her face. It was marred by a red-brown stain on the bottom corner. Peter reached down to touch Isaac's blood. When his fingers made contact he felt Nathan's ability leave him and a new one take its place. He felt the familiar compulsion and jumped up with sudden purpose.

"Peter?" Hiro asked in confusion as the man before him started searching the room frantically for something. He seemed to have found it when he pulled paper and pens from an open box. "Peter?" Hiro asked again as he watched as his friend's eyes became white and he started drawing frantically.

"Oh no," the Japanese man sighed.

-HEROES—

Noah bounced the rubber ball off the floor; it rebounded to the wall then arced back into his hand. He repeated the action, not counting because he'd stopped after 5,000.

"Still using that old trick?" Lauren Gilmore asked from the opposite side of the glass.

"You're the one who taught it too me," Noah smiled.

"They sent me in here to question you," She told him impassively, switching the file that she was holding from one hand to the other.

"Aren't they monitoring this conversation then?" He asked confused.

"No," She smiled, "they learned from Denko's mistakes. They don't want another REBEL getting into their system or any record of this facility reaching the media. The best sound proofing and security is protecting you, they don't need to listen in as well."

"I see," Noah grinned. "Claire?"

"Gone," Lauren assured him. "We haven't gotten any sign of where she is since she torched the relocations records and left."

"She what?" Noah caught the ball and set it down as he stood up.

"Burned everything we had on those specials. The off-site electronic backups were mysteriously blank," She smiled. "I think REBEL had something to do with that."

"Well good for them," Noah smiled. "Peter Petrelli and Sylar?"

"Gabriel is two cells down, Peter is listed as deceased."

"Dead?" Noah asked in shock.

"I'm not sure," Lauren looked skeptical. "That might be better though. Martins hasn't given me access to prisoner files but he had a fully working lab built on the main floor. He's not just holding Specials here; he's using them for something."

"Using them for something? What?" Noah demanded, worried. If Claire was caught… He didn't want to think about what Martins might try knowing she couldn't die from his testing.

Lauren shook her head. "I have no idea. They've put me in charge of the STRIKE surveillance detail."

"They have you watching anti-special terrorists?"

"They've been increasingly active, gathering in New York," Lauren explained. "I'm leaving for the city soon."

"Good luck," Noah said sincerely.

"I'll need more than luck. I think they're planning something. Their mole in the OSA made a run for it after they started the round up but not before she stole a compass from the relocation office."

"A compass?" Noah's mind whirled. "They're after the sanctuary."

"And they might have a Special who can take them there," Lauren explained. "The leader's son, Neil Symons, has the genetic markers of a Special." Lauren opened the file in her hands and pulled out a picture placing it up against the glass. A father and son looked out; the boy was dirty blond with an easy smile and sharp, curious eyes while his father was a stark contrast, shaded eyes, eternal frown and gray hair.

"And the OSA is going to stop them?" Noah asked disbelievingly. If he knew anything about Martins it was that he'd do anything to reach his goals. If that meant teaming up with radicals like STRIKE, that's what he'd do.

"No," Lauren shook her head. "The OSA is only interested in the compass. They need it back. Claire destroyed the few they had and Martins is hell bend on rounding up the whole circus."

"Damn," Noah muttered and got lost in his thoughts and schemes for a moment. "What do you plan on doing?" He asked her.

"I'll do what I can to keep it out of their hands but I can't make any promises, there are too many unknowns… They're giving me a new partner, one of them, and I don't know if that means they trust me or they don't," Lauren sighed. "I wish you weren't locked up so you could back me up."

"I wish I was there at your back," He assured her, putting his hand up to the glass unconsciously in an effort to touch her. Lauren laughed.

"You are such a sap," She smiled and put her hand up to his.

"Yes I am," He grinned.

"And I love you for it," She admitted without hesitation. "You take care."

"Don't get shot," He ordered her.

"I'll do my best." Reluctantly Lauren flicked off the sound between the cell and the hall before turning and leaving Noah's window. He sighed heavily and returned to his bed and threw the rubber ball against the floor again, beginning his count back at one.

-HEROES—

Bennet had reached 10,000 and stopped counting again when Martins passed his window without sparing a glance. He paced down the hall to the cell of a rather special captive. He saw Gabriel stand up quickly when he entered the man's view but ignored him, he was a nuclear war head; the task Martins had before him required more delicate precision. He flicked the sound switch.

"Hello Ms. Stone," Martin greeted the young woman who had fallen asleep on her curled up legs. She sat up with a start, scooting backward on her bed away from him.

"Wh…what do you want?" She asked in a small, hoarse voice.

"Ms. Stone," Martin said with a touch of exasperation. "I had hoped that we could be more cordial." She just watched him suspiciously, eyes tearing up. He held back his feelings of disgust. She was so weak and so easily controlled because of it.

"That's too bad," he responded to her silence, "I had a favor to ask of you."

"I don't have the option to refuse do it?" She asked in a wavering voice.

"No," His smile became sickly sweet. "You don't." Her door opened suddenly and a guard came in carrying clothes a pair of high heeled shoes.

"Get dressed," Martins said politely, "You're going on a trip to New York."

"Why?" Sophie asked without standing as she glanced between Martins and Gabriel through the double panes of glass. "I want to talk to Gabriel."

"You can," Martins assured her, "get dressed first, then I'll let you out." Sophie stood shakily and took the clothes behind her small privacy screen. Moments later she came out dressed in ill fitting suit pants and long sleeved, low neck black shirt. She tugged at it uncomfortably, used to the cold climates of Chicago and modest clothing.

"You look much better already," Martians smiled. She found in somewhere in her spineless body to glare at him and pull her neckline higher. The guard at her door stepped aside to let her out and she emerged into the hallway.

"Now may I speak to Gabriel?" She asked him, hands clasped nervously in front of her.

"Of course," Martins smiled. "I'm a man of my word; Gabriel, as you may find, is not."

"I still want to talk to him," She whispered, crumbling under his hard gaze. Martin's crossed the hall and flicked the sound switch beside Gabriel's cell.

"Gabriel?" Sophie asked hesitantly, walking up to the window.

"I told you," He forced a smile, "they let you out."

"I don't want to go," She whispered, not sure if he could even hear her but afraid that if she spoke the words any louder she'd cry.

"You'll be fine," He said, eyes on Martins. "Do as they say and you'll be taken care of."

"And you?" She asked.

"I'll be fine," He assured her. "They can't keep me here forever."

"So we'll see," Martins grinned. "It's time to go Sophie." Her wide scared eyes glanced between him and Gabriel and Gabriel realized for the first time that her eyes weren't dark brown but a deep hazel.

Her breath shallow, she backed away from the glass slowly. Martins flicked the switch again before Gabriel could say goodbye so Sophie only saw his lips form the words before the Guard's firm hand lead her down the hall.

As Gabriel watched her go he felt a strange, unfamiliar feeling in his chest. It was a restless pain; worry. It had been a long time since he worried about anyone, even Peter. He rarely worried about his partner and friend. Now, when Peter was being hunted and Gabriel was imprisoned he didn't worry about the floppy haired man. He'd made it through tougher times and Gabriel had faith Peter would survive as he always did. This was a different feeling.

Perplexed Gabriel sank to his bed.

_She's weak,_ Sylar's voice said in his mind, so much like his own voice but distinctly different in its tone.

She's innocent, he responded.

_She's nothing. Why would I care about someone so insignificant?_ _Elle was at least pretty._

You always do go for the blonds. Gabriel smiled humorlessly.

_What about her is different from anyone else? _Sylar demanded.

"She's not trying to use me," Gabriel said to himself aloud. Sophie did cling to him but in such a situation it wasn't strange still she never wanted anything from him. When he'd first met her she'd been afraid but never scheming or manipulative. She was like Peter in that way, always looking at people as people and never as tools. Even when Peter sought out Sylar because he'd foreseen him saving Emma, it had been without subterfuge or deception. Peter asked for help and Sylar asked for forgiveness. Lying back on the hard bed Gabriel looked back on his life despondently for the face of someone who hadn't used him, someone to whom he'd been more than a tool; Angela Petrelli, Noah Bennet, Luke Campbell, Elle Bishop, his adoptive mother, his adoptive father, his real father… his mother. The one person who hadn't used him and he couldn't even remember her face. Sylar shook his head of the thought and rolled over. Sophie would be ok; she was too useful to be killed. Or so he hoped.

-HEROES—

"This place stinks," Molly complained from the hotel bed she was lying on, flicking through the channels on the old television.

"We'll only be here one night," Matt assured her as he sat down at the desk. He tried focusing on the television but Matty was asking his mother a million questions in his high pitched voice and limited vocabulary. His mind wandered between his son and the television before checking out. Unconsciously, his hands found the hotel provided pen and paper. Barely watching the page in front of him, he drew with urgent strokes.

"Daddy," Matty asked from his father's elbow, "What are you doing?" Matt stopped suddenly, looking down at his work as if seeing it for the first time.

"Oh no," He jumped up. "Janice!"

"What?" She asked from the bathroom.

"I… I have to go to DC," he said without any other way of broaching the subject.

"You what? I thought we were going to this 'safe pace'?"

"Yes," Matt said quickly as he gathered his things. "You need to take the kids and go there but I have to go to DC."

"No," Janice came out of the bathroom, "I don't understand. You're expecting me to take the kids somewhere I've never been and have a hard time believing exists and you're just going to run…"

"Listen," He said throwing his bag over his shoulder, "I don't like it anymore than you do but I can't sit here."

"Why not?" She demanded.

"I don't have time to explain," He sighed. "And you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Molly?"

"What's going on?" Molly asked sacredly.

"I have to go," he explained, "You need to work the compass," He said handing her the small round device. "It will only work for you. Think of where you want to go, the Sanctuary, and it will lead you there."

"But what about you?" She asked, worried.

"I have to stop it," He told her and hurried out of the room.

"Stop what?" Janice asked to the empty doorway. Matty was suddenly tugging on her pants leg and holding up the paper Matt had been scribbling on.

"Matt doesn't draw," Janice muttered as she picked up the paper and her mouth dropped open in shock.

-HEROES—

Gabriel looked up with mild interest as a tray of food was shoved into the slot beside the window. The faceless guard who delivered it didn't so much as glance at the prisoner before moving on with his cart. Judging from the many other portions on the cart Gabriel could guess he was far from alone in his predicament. How many others had been captured? How many were on the run, scared and confused? How many were still out there, unaware of the danger? Sophie's cell had been filled with another prisoner hours ago, an angry man who paced and punched the air restlessly. He'd glared at Gabriel and his blood stained windows with distain at first then settled for ignoring the cell across the hall.

Out of habit more than interest Gabriel crossed the room to the tray. It was the same bland meal he got at even intervals over what he assumed was day. The lights never changed in his prison, the days were only marked by the guard change and the tasteless meals.

"Wow," a voice in the cell startled Gabriel. "This place is worse than Primatech." Turning with dread Gabriel looked over at the tall, skinny blond standing against the tightly closed door to his cell. He knew his mouth was hanging open but he didn't care. Elle Bishop was casually leaning against the doorframe with her crooked, sadistic smile and a bloody line across her forehead. Unconsciously he backed away, an emotion close to fear gripping him.

"You… You're dead," was all he could think to say.

"Yeah," Elle shrugged and said, "You cut my head open," as if it were an everyday occurrence and dried blood didn't mar the white of her skin and drip down the side of her face.

"But then…" he struggled to speak through his constricting throat.

"Ugh!" She tilted her head back in exasperation, "You are so dense! No wonder the world has manipulated you since the day you were born." Leveling him with her hard, emotionless gaze she reasoned, "Don't you think you'd have heard this three inch metal door opening and closing if I'd walked in? So obviously I didn't and…?"

"You're just… in my head?" Gabriel asked, still keeping his distance from the hallucination and gripping the tray in his hands.

"Bingo!" She chimed. "Congratulations. You're officially insane." Gabriel was rooted to the spot as he pondered why Elle, of all people, would show up in his hallucinations. Why would he be hallucinating in the first place?

"I can see this is all a lot for you to grasp," Elle purred as she walked forward, catlike in her high heels, "so I'll just leave you to your breakdown in peace." Smiling with false sweetness and sincerity she leaned over his tray, her face inches from his. Her hand caught his on the plate and, shocked by the solidity of his illusion he dropped the forgotten meal. Just as quickly as Elle had appeared she was gone as the tray clattered to the ground, breaking in half where it hit.

Gabriel blinked down at it for a long minute, mind still reeling over the strange apparition he'd seen before him. He bent down to examine the sharp pieces of hard plastic; one triangle had broken off with a wicked point. It reminded him of the shard of glass Claire had killed him with before burning him in the Primatech building years ago. Touching the point he remembered those days, the ones ruled by other people's wishes, twisted by their lies. Anger boiled up momentarily. _I should have killed them all, _Sylar's voice told him, _watched their blood run down the walls of the damned building, left them burning in it instead, should have made Claire scream and scream as I killed them until she had no sense of self, didn't want a sense of self to escape the pain and despair_.

Pain, a sharp jab in the pads of his fingers brought Gabriel back to reality. He'd gripped the shard of hard plastic with enough force to draw blood. The ruby drops of shallow blood ran down his fingers. An old ability he barely remembered, thought he'd lost, came rushing back through him. Sylar grinned and reveled in its power as it took hold of his mind.

Gabriel's eyes went glassy and he stood quickly, gripping the plastic shard in his left hand and dipping his right fingers into the red that pooled in his opposite palm. The new prisoner across the hall watched in confusion as the tall man across the hall started painting on the glass, drawing long lines of red over the already smudged glass. He banged and called for guards but no one could hear him.

Fifteen minutes latter Gabriel dropped the bloody plastic and backed up, tracking the splattered contents of his tray across the floor. His wide, worried eyes explored what he'd just drawn and covered his open mouth with a bloody hand as he stumbled backward.

"Oh no," he whispered.

-HEREOS—

In Isaac's loft, Peter Petrelli put a finishing stroke on the page before him. His eyes cleared and returned to their lively blue as he backed up with a gasp.

"Uh oh," Hiro Nakamura whispered, "What do we do?" Peter could only stare in shock.

"I don't know," He finally said to his companion.

Before him was the image of the Capitol city going up in flames and smoke, a billowing mushroom cloud hanging over it, and the silhouette of one man watching.

"I don't know," Peter repeated helplessly.

-HEROES—

[AN: I hope you liked it. Review with questions, comments or if you spot any errors.-Sel]


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